


Pin-Up

by MistressOfMalplaquet



Series: Sneakers and Saddle Shoes [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Demisexuality, Dom!Juggie, F/M, Jughead goes from 0 - 90 mph, Lingerie, classroom games, sub!Betty, tease!Betty, that girl is completely in control believe me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 20:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfMalplaquet/pseuds/MistressOfMalplaquet
Summary: I wrote a chapter without any bughead interactions today, which made me sad and of course we can't have that.Lingerie-inspired erotica to the rescue





	Pin-Up

It starts in English.

Jughead sits in the back where he can sneak a few pages of Metamorphosis if the class gets too boring. He’s learned to take notes, keep a pertinent question handy in case Miss Grundy calls on him, and hide a novel at the same time. Sometimes it’s his latest manuscript: a short story or the latest installment of his imaginary radio show called Time Police, so you could say he’s got a lot going on.

Miss Grundy tells the class to pass up their homework. Jughead’s about 3 for 5 when it comes to assignments, but by some miracle he’s got a piece of composition paper covered with eraser marks and scratch-outs about Colonial poetry. He hands it to Betty, who takes his creased sheet and places it on type of her faultlessly typed and stapled essay. It's just as neat as if Betty ironed English homework as well as her blouse.

But when she reaches out of her desk to hand the essays to Reggie, Jughead realizes with a full-body start that Betty isn’t quite as put-together as he thought. The seam in her skirt has ripped, its thick wool parting to reveal what lies underneath.

He sees her skin, pale as cream. He sees her flesh-colored stocking, caught in the intricate clip of a plain white suspender. He sees where it stops, slightly above the middle of her thigh, a sight that he's only noticed due to that traitorous rip.

In that instant, Jughead is desperately and achingly hard.

#

A few facts about Jughead Jones:

1\. Reggie showed a few stag movies during a party at his house. Moose, Archie, and even Dilton spent the next few hours cheering at the screen, rating the women who gyrated and pulsed through all manner of acrobatics. Jughead, however, snuck off and used the time to read comic books.

2\. He found a girlie mag in FP’s room and looked inside the lurid covers. There was one classic photo of Marilyn Monroe he found interesting, but the rest bored him. Eventually he rolled it up and replaced it under the pillow.

3\. Jughead has never kissed a girl or even thought about it. He’s too busy with his novel when he’s not working construction with Archie.

#

_Hey Betty,_

_You might want to pin up your skirt before you leave class. Sorry. I didn't mean to see._

_\- Jughead_

#

She reads the note and flushes a becoming shade of sunset, the same color he’s seen above the hills of Sweetwater early evenings during summer. Jughead sits back in his seat, tries to compose himself, and blows out a long breath.

Betty’s answer is to put on her pink coat and belt it tightly. She’ll wear it for the rest of the day.

But when the bell rings and the students get up to leave, she turns to face Jughead. They stare at each other for a long moment: eyes wide with shock, lips parted. Then Veronica slips her arm through Betty’s, whispers something in her ear, and they leave him behind.

He has no coat to cover what has happened. Jughead has to walk outside with his books held at an extremely awkward angle.

#

On Tuesday she does it on purpose.

He looks up when Betty coughs, half-turns towards his desk, coughs again. She faces front, and her right hand pulls her pressed shirt out of her jeans up far enough for him to see her longline bra, also white. The hooks run all the way down her spine.

_What does her skin look like underneath? Does it bear the mark of her lingerie, curved indents of the fastenings in moonlight flesh?_

Could Jughead feel them with his tongue?

Just like that he’s hard again, blood rushing south so quickly he’s dizzy.

#

On Wednesday she wears a lacy slip, revealed when she flips up one side of her dress when the class is intent on the board. Only Jughead gets to see.

Thursday Betty arrives to class in some kind of suit, complete with pants and matching jacket. Her shirt is severe, mannish with actual cufflinks. Jughead can hear them clink against her desk as she writes.

He’s about to sigh with relief or disappointment at the end of their game when Betty takes off one of her flats and wiggles her toes. He knows she's doing it for him. Jughead can see the seam quite clearly, the black of her stocking. They’re the kind with French heels. He researched them for a noir mystery.

#

Another fact:

Jughead has never propositioned a girl or asked anyone on a date.

#

_Dear Betty,_

_You are killing me._

_\- Jughead_

#

“Miss Grundy, may I please use the restroom?”

When the teacher nods, Betty stands up. She takes her purse, flashes a quick glance at Jughead, and leaves the class.

He able to wait ten seconds before asking if he can go and put his books back in his locker.

It’s quiet in the hallway. Jughead waits outside the restroom, one leg bent and Converse flat against the cement. Seconds tick by, and just as he’s about to bail (what will he say to her, everything he composes sounds ridiculous) when she emerges.

“There you are.” Betty’s tone is matter-of-fact, as if she knew he’d be there. She holds out her cuff and hands him one of the links. “Would you mind? It’s not cooperating.”

Her laughter tickles the hair on his neck as Jughead bends to comply. The tiny leg of the cufflink slides through her tailored buttonhole, and she sighs as he snaps it into place.

It’s the most erotic moment of his life.

Jughead drops his science notebook on the floor, cups Betty’s neck, and pushes her back against the wall. Her breath is quick and warm against his mouth, replaced by the stunning fact of her lips.

“When,” he demands. “Where.”

“My room. After school my parents will be at The Register. I’ll leave out a ladder.”

#

At 4:48 pm on a Thursday afternoon, Jughead Jones climbs into Betty Cooper’s window. She opens the sash, stands back as he stumbles over her windowseat, gasps as he lifts her into his arms.

The neat trouser-suit is gone. Betty still wears the shirt, however, unbuttoned over black lace and the seamed stockings. Jughead sighs and kisses her for the second time that day, tastes mint and Betty. It’s heady, addictive.

“I’ve known you since you were five,” he says into her mouth. He wants to kiss and kiss and kiss, lick the pout of her lower lip. When he does, oh God, her mouth parts and he’s able to experience a hint of tongue, making them both whimper.

“I know. I never thought, but mmm Juggie, those notes you wrote, I just wanted more and I couldn’t help it…”

“You couldn’t help it,” he marvels, tumbling with her onto the bed. “So starched and neat, but underneath you were so naughty, just so naughty. Betty, oh gosh, Betty Cooper.”

She moans and arches under him, unashamedly grinding that soft silk against his erection, when did he get so hard, he feels like iron and velvet, and everything tingles. His lips, his neck, his cock – Jughead swears even his elbows are on fire. And holy cow, she is soft but what? What happened? He can feel she’s wet down there, right through the silk of her lace panties.

“Jughead Jones.” Betty falls back into the pillows, smiles at him, and tangles her fingers through his hair. “I never suspected. You’re like a gift wrapped up in a corner that no one notices, and when I cleverly select and unwrap it, inside I find the most magical present ever.”

He kisses her neck, works his way down the cream of her shoulders and her flat abdomen. Just as he imagined, under the hooks of her garter belt her skin is marked with the imprints. He can feel the whorls with his tongue.

With a quick movement, Jughead turns Betty over and pulls her flush against him, one arm hard against her belly, bottom firm against his rearing erection. “I like you so much,” he whispers in her ear as she bucks against him. “I really like you, Betty.” She starts to reply but he slaps one delicate globe above her stocking, making her cry out. “But you were so, so naughty all week, flashing me in school when anyone could see.”

“No one saw,” she whispers. “They were all oblivious. It was like you and I were alone in our own little world.”

Jughead curses, spanks her again, and licks her cheek. Already the milk of her thighs is reddening, his handprint on her ass. He likes that, the thought that his fingers will linger there, maybe even after he’s gone, fade slowly until they become part of her skin. “Did you do it on purpose, sweetness?” he asks. “Plan what to wear for me each night?”

“I did. It was unbearably exciting.” Betty half-turns, winks at him, erupts with giggles. “Your face in class though…”

“You tortured me and you knew it.” He’s going to make her just as hungry, Jughead decides. Her legs part under his fingers, and he mouths his way behind her knees, down the seam of one stocking, suck her toes right through the silk.

At the same time he pulls off her underwear, licks his way to the junction of her hip, and time seems to slow down.

He feels liquid, luxurious, as if they’ve got days to explore each other. Perhaps Betty feels it too – she rubs her inner thighs against his ears and dislodges his beanie.

“Oh dear.” Betty giggles again and tries to settle it back on his head, but with a loud _Fuck it_ Jughead grabs the thing and throws it across the room. The gesture earns him a bright smile. “I’ve never seen you like this,” she says. “It’s like there are two Juggies in my bed, pre- and post-coronation.”

“Yeah, and you got us both worked up. _All week_ , missy.” Jughead turns her back over, brackets her face with his hands, and smiles down at her. “Miss Cooper, you are in so much trouble.”

She arches again, maybe trying to chase some friction against that damp silk. “Your smile is really mischievous. I just realized what a bad boy you are.”

“And you’re a bad girl.” Jughead can’t wait any longer, diving between her legs to finally, finally taste the warm honey she’s got hidden away. His tongue curls under the saddle of her panties, licks between plump and swollen folds. She’s dripping with it, crying out, fisting the blanket, and Jughead has never felt so strong, so in control.

He figures what makes her squeal (quick flicks just off-center) and moan (long swirl with one fingertip dipping inside) and beg for him (pulling his belt out of the loops, cracking it under her nose, buckling her wrists together.) Then he stands up, runs a proprietary eye over her, bound like a beauty in his own personal movie. One day, Jughead decides, he’ll photograph her like this: shivering and aching for him.

Slowly he unties the flannel around his waist, unbuttons his jeans, sits to pull off shoes. He takes his time, leaning against the warmth of her waist as he removes socks and underwear.

“I’m sorry I played a game with you all week,” Betty says. He doesn’t answer, just raises one eyebrow at her before folding his shirt with careful movements. “Juggie,” she whispers. “If you come here, I’ll let you pick out what I’ll wear tomorrow.”

Well. A better man might be able to resist, but Jughead is not that guy. He rolls on top of Betty, grins at her, gets a delighted smile in return. “I’d like that,” he says. “I want to come here at night and pick out your clothes, see you wear them in school the next day.”

Betty’s eyes go dark, lids heavy. She sighs as he brushes his tongue over the dimple in her cheek and settles between her legs. “Promise I’ll make it good, Juggie.”

_Oh._

Jughead nods. “I know you will, sweetness,” he tells her. Already he’s hard against her, feeling her wetness lap at him as if there was a mouth down there.

It’s ecstatic.

“Kiss me, Betty,” he orders, and she opens like a rosebud, a fucking rose. He does it to her with tongue and teeth, making love to her mouth with his. She whispers that she can taste herself, that it’s fantastic, that she thought he might be good but never expected just how amazing this would be.

“Under the pillow,” she says. A small and crackling packet is there, a condom for him to roll on before lining up at the pink shell of her sex.

She was waiting for him. Betty knew this would happen.

Jughead means to go slow, but it’s as if she sucks him inside. Together they cry out as he slips inside, and it’s warm and so very easy. “Are you okay?” he manages to gasp, because maybe it’s painful for her, but she nods frantically and nearly bumps his nose.

Thank God, because he is lost. Jughead isn’t aware of moving, just the growing and swelling sensation that is him with her. “Betty,” he whispers. “Betty, I’m _inside_ you.”

“I know, I know, it’s crazy, this is so crazy, I want you so much, I thought about you all week.” She’s babbling against his cheek, and with a sense of wonder Jughead feels her clench down on him from within.

It brings him over the edge, into a throbbing whirlpool where he shoots and pumps and empties into Betty, Betty fucking Cooper.

#

On Friday, Betty comes into English class and ignores Reggie’s usual blatant flirtation. She sees Jughead, sprawled out in his back row seat, and their eyes lock with a distinct click.

Her dress is yellow, clings to her waist and bells out in a wide skirt. It's made out of soft material Jughead couldn’t name if his life depended on it. He does know, however, that she’s wearing her lacy slip underneath with no bra or panties. Betty’s legs are also bare, and she sports bobby socks with lace-ups.

Miss Grundy tells them to take out their books. As Jughead prepares to write notes, he feels her left foot slide back and touch his calf.

Jughead hides his grin in his notebook and feels sorry for any poor sap who isn’t him. He slouches down in the uncomfortable desk chair, props his book on his stomach, and presses worn Converse sneakers around the shining leather of her saddle shoes.


End file.
